


A Little Whiskey Goes A Long Way

by Zyla



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego is very fierce but he loves them its okay, Drunk Five, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Obsession with apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleep Deprivation, So basically this is fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 12:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyla/pseuds/Zyla
Summary: Life wasn’t fair.It was a phrase drilled into his mind; an excuse for every misfortune that befell him.It leaves Klaus completely helpless.It’s a paradox; everyone is either spoiled or desperate and yet both manage to break the same.Some break differently.





	A Little Whiskey Goes A Long Way

Life wasn’t fair.  
It was a phrase drilled into his mind; an excuse for every misfortune that befell him.  
It leaves Klaus completely helpless.  
It’s a paradox; everyone is either spoiled or desperate and yet both manage to break the same.

He rubs at his face tiredly, scrubbing at the thin layer of scruff that goes along his jawline. The contrasting red glow of numbers on his clock read 2:32 AM. He exhales shakily.  
Over the last several days, he had no motivation to get up. He let the blankets of his bed engulf him and refused any conversation Ben tried to start. Even with the days of sleep, he felt exhausted. All his energy is drained from him. His body aches for something substantial - preferably drugs.  
He wants so badly to submit to it.  
The thought is quickly dismissed. He forces his body upward, ignoring the way pain spikes up his forearms.

A screeching noise followed by a loud bang causes him to flinch.  
What the actual fuck?

He stands unsteadily, nearly tripping over. His legs feel unattached from his body. With effort, he drags his feet across the hardwood floors. He follows each new sound. They reach his ears in higher volumes every time he steps closer to their source.

Dim lights spill from the arch that leads into the kitchen.  
He inches closer, listening to the rustling of pottery. After the whole torture fiasco, he became more aware of his surroundings, especially in the mansion.  
A grunt reaches his ears, followed by a drawn out “shit.”  
Hesitantly, he leans passed the corner that covers his view.

Five is rummaging through upper cabinets, standing on top of the kitchen counter. Each cabinet door is closed gently when Five finishes his search. Even with the ruckus, it’s obvious he’s trying to be quiet.

“What’cha looking for?” Klaus grumbles, raising a hand to rub at his sore throat.  
Five jumps, spinning to look at him. Those piercing eyes are widened in alarm. It’s almost comical. They narrow, looking him up and down judgmentally, while his he shifts his weight from foot-to-foot.  
Klaus feels uneasiness creep into his mind. How is it when he catches Five off-guard, he’s the one getting flustered?

“None of your business.” Five dismisses him tersely.

Klaus sputters indignantly. “None of my- It’s like three in the morning! It sounded like someone was throwing a rave down here!”  
“Guess you’d know what that sounds like.”  
Annoyance flickers briefly in his chest. It’s overshadowed in the duration that he takes to look at his brother. Five’s not in the pajamas he fancies - he’s in his usual attire, although he’s conspicuously missing his blazer and tie. From what Klaus can see of his feet, he only has one shoe on.

The fuck?

He doesn’t mention it, even when questions nag at his thoughts. It’s better to let Five talk first.  
Over the months he’s had his brother back, he’s barely learned anything about the boy. Five was hard to read on any basis and it’s not like he had ever made it easy by offering information. All Klaus knew was that he’d take bullets over any form of friendly interaction.

Frankly, it’s worrying. He moves closer to the table, drawing back a chair. It’s wooden legs scratch against the ground. He winces but takes a seat anyway.

Five is still fluttering around the kitchen. The boy finally pops open one of the highest cabinets, one of which he was struggling to reach for the last minute. Klaus watches amusedly as his fingers scramble inside of it, barely touching the surface. He must find whatever he’s looking for because a chuckle escapes his lips.  
Klaus leans over on his chair, trying to look around his brother’s body to see the mystery item.  
Blue flashes suddenly in the dimly lit room, stinging against his eyes. He lifts his hand in a feeble attempt to get rid of the remaining feeling.

“Jesus!” He hisses.

“No, just me.” Five’s voice is next to him. A popping noise fills the air, followed by the tell-tale sound of fizz. Klaus drops his hand away, cracking open his eyes. He can see again, but every time he blinks there is still an outline of the flash left in his vision. He focuses his eyes on his brother.  
Five is sitting cross-legged on the table, chugging whiskey. He rips it from his lips a moment later, cradling the bottle in his lap.

Klaus chuckles nervously. “Who hurt you, man?”

“What?”

He sighs in exasperation. “I’m asking what’s wrong.”  
The boy’s lips curl. His eyes are planted firmly on the stained wood of the table in front of him. His fingers fidget against the neck of the bottle. “Nothing.”  
“Right. And that’s why you’re up at three?”

Five scoffs, raising the bottle again. He gulps more down, pulling it away with a ‘pop.’ He wipes at his lips.  
Klaus leans his forearm against the table’s surface, raising an eyebrow expectantly.  
“Idiot." Five mumbles. "You’re awake too.” He points out, shuffling on the tabletop. Klaus feels eyes studying him. "Why?”  
Klaus glances downwards and shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”  
When he looks up from the table, he notices there’s a flush covering Five’s cheeks. Liquor must be working its way into his system. Klaus bets in seven minutes that the boy will be dancing around the kitchen in a drunken haze. He'd _love_ to see that.

 

“You ‘kay?” The teenager asks.  
“Yeah.” Klaus sighs. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”  
“You’ll be okay, but you’re not okay now?” Five’s words are more sloppy. Klaus feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  
“Bingo.”

Five breathes out a trembling breath, leaning forward against his knees. “Why aren’t you ‘kay?” He asks. The remaining whiskey in the bottle is dangerously close to tipping past the bottle’s top. Klaus falters. Five probably won’t even remember this if his plans are to get thoroughly shit-faced.  
He might as well tell him.

“I… Look, I’ve been sober for months now…” Five nods along. “And I guess, without the drugs, it’s hard. I don’t wanna get up and like… Function. Y’know? It’s just so hard.”  
Five eyes him before leaning back, nearly falling off the table. He flings the bottle up, swallowing more whiskey. He pulls it away from himself and offers it to Klaus.  
“Makes ‘m numb.” Five slurs.  
Klaus blinks at his brother.

  
_Five sharing alcohol?_

  
He gently pries the bottle out of Five’s fingers, placing it on the ground next to him.

Five stares at him in bewilderment. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “If you’re not gon’ drink it, lemme.”  
“No, no, you’ve had enough, man.” Klaus scoots the chair out from under him, grabbing the bottle with intentions to pour it out.  
Five teleports in front of him. The whiskey is gone from his hands before he can comprehend what just happened. Giggles reach his ears. He turns to his left where his brother seated himself on the floor against the wall.

His brother is grinning; it's a sardonic smile that stretches from ear to ear.  
“Five, I’m really not in the mood for this.” Klaus pleads.  
Five doesn’t acknowledge him, instead raising the alcohol to his lips. Klaus stares in shock as the bottle is emptied in several gulps.  
Five’s gaze is challenging, meeting his own with a fiery defiance.

“Was gon’ share.” Five hiccups. His blinks are turning more sluggish, eyelids only half-mast.  
Klaus stays frozen in place.

Why the fuck is Five acting out? Did something happen?

He carefully steps closer to Five. The boy presses more firmly against the wall he planted himself at, protectively clutching the empty bottle between his hands.  
His movements are lazy and uncoordinated. Klaus scoffs but accepts the message. He pauses his approach, opting to stand still instead. He knows, without a doubt, that Five will pass out soon. He may have been able to handle alcohol well, but a bottle of whiskey will down anyone.  
Especially a thirteen year old body.  
“Klaus?”  
He hums in reply.  
“Scared. Close ‘m eyes an’ see it.” Five’s words are mixed together, barely decipherable. Luckily, Klaus has had years of practice dealing with drunken bastards.  
“See what?” He prompts.  
Five doesn’t reply. Klaus can see the boy’s arms loosen from where they covered the whiskey. A sound like a whimper escapes his mouth and he leans his head against the wall.  
“Don’t let ‘m… Please. Don’ wanna sleep.”

Klaus blinks.  
“You don’t want to sleep?”

Five nods, his head slumping against his shoulder.  
Klaus frowns when a soft snore fills the room. “Should’ve had coffee, then.” He mutters.  
He approaches the sleeping boy, wrapping his arms under his armpits and raising him from the ground.  
It’s awkward, having to constantly press his brother against the wall to maneuver him. When they reach a suitable position, Klaus loops one arm at the bend of Five’s knees while the other supports his back and lifts him. He stumbles backwards with the added weight, brushing Five’s feet against pans. They clatter to the ground.  
He looks quickly towards his brother who remains asleep.

Damn it all.  
Why did he have to get up today?

“Klaus?” He whirls around, careful not to hit Five’s head against the counter. Diego is standing there with knives slotted between his fingers. Klaus sighs and readjusts his grip on Five.  
“What is-” Diego’s eyes do a double-take, scanning the room. He visibly deflates.  
“Just… What?”  
Klaus shuffles his feet. He doesn't want to go into detail, really. “Well, Five got drunk.”  
Diego grunts, moving forward to place his blades on the table. He gestures for Klaus to continue.  
“I dunno why he was down here. Just found him in the kitchen.”  
“Was he drunk when you got here?” Diego is searching through cabinets. He breathes out a “fuck” when he notices the missing whiskey bottle.  
“Uh, no.”  
Diego’s hands pause.  
“You let him get drunk?”  
“Well, I mean, he didn’t like…” Klaus sighs. He did let the kid get drunk, as wrong as it was of him. Not like it’s anything new.  
But maybe he should’ve done something - paid more attention to his brother.

Five’s consciousness may be old as fuck, but his body isn’t. And even with his mental age, he still acts like a child sometimes. Klaus scolds his own judgement. He should’ve done something. Even if Five was nearly impossible to understand, it was blatantly obvious he wasn’t okay.  
“Yeah. I did.”

Diego’s eyes meet his. They're dark and sharp as they assess him. He feels his brother’s disapproval wash over him.  
“Hey, I didn’t know he’d get piss ass drunk!” Klaus defends, holding back from flinging his arms in the air.  
Diego shushes him furiously when Five shuffles in his sleep. Both of them sit in silence, waiting for the boy to settle in Klaus’s arms.  
Diego clears his throat quietly, scratching at his hairline. “Okay, well. We should probably get him upstairs.”  
“Can you carry him?”  
Diego mutters a quiet “of course.” Klaus watches as he rolls his sleeves and double checks his body for extra knives. He bends his legs slightly and motions for Klaus to give Five over.  
Klaus nods, gently lifting the boy into Diego’s arms.

Diego inhales deeply, preparing for the added weight. When Five is settled in his arms, he exhales a laugh.  
“This is ridiculous.”  
Klaus shakes his sore arms wildly. “Hm?”  
“He’s so damn light. Is he eating?”  
Klaus shrugs. “Dunno.” He looks up from his arm stretches, meeting Diego’s eyes. There is worry etched into his expression.  
“Hey - it’s okay. He’ll be fine. We can check up on him and stuff. Make sure he’s eating.”

Diego nods, turning on the balls of his feet towards the stairs.  
Klaus trails behind him.  
“Why were you down here anyway?”  
Klaus debates on whether he should tell the truth or not. He decides on half of it.  
“Wasn’t tired. And Five was loud as hell down here.”  
Diego chuckles in front of him. “I’m surprised no one else woke up.” Klaus hums his agreement.  
They continue up the steps easily, navigating the house to Five’s room. When they reach it, Diego turns his back to the door, pressing it open. He’s careful not to jostle Five.  
Klaus follows him into the room.

It’s an absolute mess. Five has always had one of the smallest rooms, and he’s never been one to be overly organized.  
But even this isn’t normal for him.  
Papers are scattered across the floor, black ink covering every open space on each page. The blanket of his bed is splayed across the floor along with a pillow, his tie, and his blazer.  
“The fuck?” Diego whispers next to him.  
Klaus bends down and lifts a piece of paper.  
Messy handwriting is scrawled across it, so thickly that the paper is ripped in multiple places from the strain of the ink.  
It looks as though it was written quickly.  
Obsessively.

“Lots of numbers.” He guesses. He can’t tell if half the characters are fives or the letter “S.”  
Diego fans the papers away from him, making a path to the bed. He places Five down delicately. He joins Klaus on the floor a moment later.

“Equations? Like how he would write on the walls?” Diego suggests.  
“Maybe he ran out of chalk.” It’s only a half-joke.  
Together, they shuffle through the pages, trying to decrypt their meaning. They bounce theories off eachother, trying to explain the situation.  
But they always end up with unexplained pieces, leaving them both clueless.  
In that instant, Klaus realizes how much they don’t know about Five.

“Do you think-” Klaus is interrupted by a whimper. He looks to Diego confusedly. “Was that you?”  
Diego shakes his head.  
Klaus scrambles up from the ground, slowing his pace to tip-toe to Five. The boy is shifting on his bed, clenching his fingers against the sheets.  
“Five?”  
Five opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He thrashes his body before curling on his side.  
Klaus feels panic cease his lungs. He shakes at his brother’s shoulder.  
There are tears dripping down Five’s cheeks. His hands claw at the mattress below him.

“I can’t… Not… Please.” His voice is begging for something Klaus can’t understand. Each word is choked and strained, barely loud enough to hear.

“Is he having a nightmare?” Diego’s voice sends a jolt down his spine. He didn’t realize Diego had moved to stand next to him.  
“I think so!” Klaus whispers harshly. He shoves at Five’s shoulder more frantically. The boy presses his face against the bed, eyes firmly shut.  
A hand comes to rest on his arm.  
“Klaus, calm down. This isn’t gonna help.” Klaus doesn’t know how Diego is so calm when he feels like he’s about combust. His mind is frenzied, shouting at him to do something.  
He lets Diego take over anyway.  
He watches from the side as Diego tries to wake Five.  
Every cry coming from his smallest brother resonates inside his head. He tries to block them out.

A minute passes before the boy’s eyes flutter open. They’re unseeing, hazy and filled with emotions Klaus has never seen on Five’s face. The boy pushes himself away violently, body colliding with the floor at the opposite side of the bed.

Klaus rushes across the room, kicking at the paper that nearly causes him to trip. Diego is close behind him.  
Five is searching through the sheets, eyes scanning his earlier writing. He traces a quivering finger over each line, shaking his head before repeating the process with another page.  
Diego rips the paper away from him.

Five lunges forward, trying to grab at it.  
_“Please!_ I need to go back!” He cries.  
Klaus freezes.

_Back._

  
Does Five think he’s stuck in the apocalypse?  
Diego must reach the same conclusion. He visibly swallows, tensing his back and flinging the paper away. It sails across the air, floating down and landing among the other sheets.  
_“Stop!”_ Five’s voice cracks, hands clutching at thin air in desperation.  
He moves to scratch at Diego’s arms, hopelessly trying to get past him. His body sags when he realizes he has no chance.

Klaus feels his heart shatter. Somehow, it hurts worse seeing Five give up. “Five… You’re home. With us.” Klaus crouches in front of Five, struggling to fit between the wall and Diego’s body.  
The boy shakes his head.  
“You’re home.” Klaus repeats.  
Five squeezes his eyes shut, scooting away from Klaus and covering his ears.  
“Stop.” He murmurs.  
Diego looks at Klaus resignedly. “I don’t know what to do.”

In all honesty, Klaus doesn’t either. He tries to think past the noise around him.

The worried shifting of Diego.  
The wheezy breaths that escape Five.

He recalls every time he’s freaked out - every reassuring word whispered to him by a familiar voice. He crawls closer to his brother.  
“You’re here now. You’re okay.” Five leans farther away from him, gasping in air as though he’s struggling for his last breaths.  
“Five, you’ve gotta breathe. Can you breathe with me?” He repeats everything he remembers verbatim.

There is no answer.

He starts breathing dramatically, sucking in calculated breathes and exhaling deeply.  
Slowly, Five starts matching his pattern.

Another minute passes before Five calms. The boy lifts his head and blinks his surroundings into view. Klaus smiles at him. He can hear Diego sigh a breath of relief behind him.  
Five’s hands lower to the ground, softly pressing against the papers.  
“I thought…” He swallows audibly, grimacing as though it causes him pain. “Thought I was alone ‘gain.” Klaus winces.  
The kid’s words are still slurred; still drunk, then. He’s going to have to deal with the aftermath of a hangover and a panic attack.

Five sighs. “Sorry.”  
_“Sorry?_ That’s all you have to say? Why didn’t you tell anyone about this!?”  
Five flinches at the volume of Diego’s voice, crossing his arms in front of himself. Klaus sends a warning glance in Diego’s general direction.  
“I told Dolores.” Five protests meekly.  
“This is unbelievable. You told a-” Klaus jabs his elbow into Diego’s side. His brother hisses through his teeth but silences nonetheless.  
Five’s attachment to the mannequin makes sense given the circumstances. Klaus figures it's better just to not talk about it.

He knows all of the siblings have been avoiding the topic as best they can.

“Well, she’s not here anymore. You know you can trust us too, right?”  
Five shrugs at Diego, an obvious mark that _no, he did not know._ Klaus clears his throat.  
Hesitantly, he moves closer to his small brother. Klaus presses his body against Five’s ,reluctantly moving to snake his arms over the boy’s shoulders. He tenses, but allows the contact. After a moment, his body loosens. His head comes to rest against Klaus and he breathes in deeply.

Klaus knows what’s going on in his head - knows that he’s fighting himself to allow the slightest bit of vulnerability.

Diego shifts his body closer as well, squeezing himself on Five’s other side. They hardly fit - two grown men and a child stuck between a narrow pathway. None of them complain about the tight space.

“‘S sappy.” Five grumbles. Klaus notices the soft smile on his face and he knows the words have no heat behind them.  
Diego scoffs next to him. “You’re gonna regret all your life choices tomorrow.”  
Klaus feels Five nod his head against him.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed before he feels something stick his shirt against his skin. He cringes at the feeling, looking down incredulously to where Five’s face is pressed against his shoulder.  
The boy is drooling, sound asleep.  
He grins, holding back the laugh that threatens to bubble from his throat. Klaus taps at Diego’s shoulder, trying to get his attention.  
His other brother is asleep as well, body awkwardly positioned between the wall and floor.  
Klaus mulls over all the blackmail material he’ll have after this, but ultimately discards the idea.

Instead, he slumps his head on top of Five’s, and lets his own exhaustion take him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore any errors.  
> Anyway, I wrote this to kinda explore personalities a bit. It's more self-indulgent than anything.  
> This is so rushed, like my other works :)  
> Sadly, my only inspiration comes at 2 am. If any of you guys would like a chapter two, lemme know!  
> If so, it will probably feature some hungover five and some heart-to-hearts


End file.
